


5 AM

by izzy_v1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Training, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drinking Games, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Muggle London, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Smut, ignore the events of cursed child, pls for the sake of getting into this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzy_v1/pseuds/izzy_v1
Summary: 4 years, 2 months and 18 days since the war ended and Draco is doing fine, thank you very much. If he never thinks of the war again and that imbecile Harry Potter, he’d be more than happy. If only fate hadn’t intervened with it's own plans.





	1. Dear Pansy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my baby (aka the fic i've been working on for literally months now)! This story is very near and dear to me because it's the first fic i've ever written for the HP fandom. But onto more important things:
> 
> I've loosely based this fic off an album called 5am by Amber Run. For those of you who have not heard/listened to it DO IT NOW BC ITS AMAZING. Also, I believe the songs definitely show the relationship that Draco/Harry have in a number of ways.
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this fic! Every comment will be seen and responded to :) I'm always up for constructive criticism and honestly, I can't wait to see what y'all have to say about it because i love this fic more than Draco loves Harry (which is a lot).

Draco stared at the parchment in front of him, struggling to find the words that came so easily to him a moment ago. Evidently, he blamed it on the noise. As more Muggles poured into the coffee shop, he scowled at their incredible loudness. It was 10 AM on a Saturday, so perhaps it was his fault for assuming there would be no people around. Still, he preferred the loud noise of Muggles than anything he would experience in Hogsmeade, which was full of Hogwarts students and wizards he went to school with who couldn’t get over the war.

 _How about this,_ he thought to himself, ‘ _Dear Pansy, I received your letter and can’t wait to see you-‘, no it sounds all wrong._ _What about, ‘Dear Pansy, I’m so glad you’re back, I hope we run into each other soon-‘, Definitely not._ _But what if I write-_

“Draco?”

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name being called. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that he would see her here, especially since she just moved into a flat not far from his place. Even so, when he saw her standing in front of him, he was at a loss for words.

 _You’ve changed,_ the words died in his throat before he could utter them out. He knew she would take them the wrong way, anyways. She _did_ change, there was no doubt about that, but it wasn’t a bad different. She looked beautiful, mature- not at all like the young girl he had once taken to the Yule Ball.

"Draco…it’s so good to see you again.” She smiled at him softly, and he was slightly dumbstruck until he snapped out of it and pulled her in for a quick hug.

She felt warm and soft, just as he remembered, although he did notice she was wearing a new perfume that smelled overwhelmingly like lavender, “Pans…I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner.”

She sat down across from him, noticing the way her long dark hair flowed in waves behind her back, “It’s water under the bridge now. Besides, I knew you were going through a lot.”

Merlin, was _that_ an understatement. He said nothing though, sipping his overpriced cappuccino silently.

“Have you kept up with the others much?” She asked, and for a moment he was confused. Up until recently, he hadn’t kept up with much of anyone.

“Well, Crabbe is dead, Goyle has fell off the face of the Earth, Blaise is always busy with work, Millicent barely talks to anybody, and I haven’t kept in contact with Theodore much.”

Pansy hummed, “I hardly kept in contact with anyone, save you and Blaise. America is _so_ boring compared to here.”

Draco held back a snort, “I can only imagine.”

“South America was definitely a favorite of mine, although I couldn’t stay long. Oh! And I made a stop in Canada as well, it was quite something…”

They talked for more or less half an hour, mostly about Pansy’s journeys and casual chatter about how much has changed for the both of them. One thing they didn’t talk about was the war. It was a delicate subject for both, for obvious reasons, but he could tell that for Pansy, being back in London was making her antsy. He noticed how every time the tiny bell on the door chimed, she would turn her head minutely, as if he would not notice.

“So you’ve got yourself a flat around here, yeah? I’m surprised you didn’t buy a wizarding home.” Draco sipped at the last of his drink, before wiping his mouth with a carefully folded napkin.

“Don’t be daft, Draco.” She gave him a look to which he only shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, it’s actually just down the block from here. I’m having a bit of trouble trying to set up a Floo address there, but hopefully it should be done soon,” She paused, “Perhaps you can come to visit me then.”

He offered her a meaningful smile, “Of course I will, Pans.”

“Maybe we could even get the gang back together for a night of drinking.” She grinned at the idea.

He chuckled, “I haven’t seen Blaise piss drunk in ages. I wonder if he still acts like a prat every time he drinks, or if he’s finally grown out of it.”

"I wonder if Blaise is still going steady with that one girl. Oh, what was her name? Mary? Maria?”

Draco snickered, “Something like that, and I doubt it. He’s far too busy for relationships, from what he’s told me.”

“And what about you?” She waggled her eyebrows at him, “Is there a witch that’s finally caught your eye?”

The pleasant feeling in his stomach dipped at the question. He hadn’t told her yet and now he has to tell her in a Muggle coffee shop? After not seeing her for three years? _Seriously?_ I mean it’s not as if he was ashamed, he’s gotten over that long ago, but this was definitely _not_ how he wanted to tell her.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck while his face burned a scarlet red, “Ah, well, you see – the thing is…”

Pansy guffawed at his effort, startling him and leaving him unable to finish his testimony.

“Oh thank _Merlin_ you’ve finally figured it out,” Her loud, boisterous laugh caused a few Muggles to turn their heads around, but it didn’t stop Pansy from being as loud as ever.

Draco was both horrified and utterly confused, “I bed your pard-”

“My dear, we’ve ALL known for quite some time. Years even.” Her cackling turned into small giggles, but her face was still as amused as ever.

“How?” He asked, puzzled, “I’ve only accepted it myself quite recently.”

Pansy smirked, “Come on Draco, no straight man puts _that_ much effort into his appearance.”

As scandalized as he was, he couldn’t help the small tug at the corner of his lips, giving into the slightest smile.

“ _Seriously_ Draco, we thought you’d never figure it out. With all that stalking Potter, vying for his attention- “

His face dropped and his eyes darkened. Among one of the unspoken things they were _never_ supposed to talk about, Harry Potter was damn near the top of that list.

Pansy must have sensed this as she immediately bit her tongue and stammered an apology.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, after realizing he wouldn’t say anything.

The mood changed, and after that, neither of them could carry on the conversation. She knew better than to talk about him, knew how sensitive of a subject it was. Still, he couldn’t blame her. He even felt a bit of guilt seeing how quickly she tucked her tail between her legs, like a kicked puppy.

After that, a moment of silence ensued where neither one of them knew what to say next. It lasted for nearly a minute until Pansy hesitantly took her leave, with a promise at her lips to meet up again soon. He hoped she meant it.

He sat there for a moment, with an empty coffee cup in hand and his pride feeling a bit wounded. As he stood up, grabbing his coat, he saw the parchment on the table, with only _Dear Pansy_ written on it. Eventually, he crumpled it up in his hands and threw it away as he walked out onto the streets.

 

~~~ 

Later in the afternoon, he went to the Manor to have tea with his mother. He tried to visit as often as he could, but once a week was all he could muster when every step he took into the Manor made him want to jump off a bridge.

For the first 6 months or so after the war, he had no choice but to stay at the Manor until his trial approached. After the trial had ended, he no longer found it in him to stay in that wretched house. It was his childhood home, the only place he’d ever really known besides Hogwarts, but the war ruined them both for him and he found himself tired of it all. After that, he packed up his things, wrote a letter to his mother, and settled in a small loft in a Muggle neighborhood in London. It was a simple life, one that his family could not understand, but one he was content with. He didn’t need the same things he thought he did before the war, and certainly didn’t want the same things. For the first time in his life, the Muggle world seemed much more favorable than the Wizarding world for that fact alone.

As he stepped into the Manor, he was unsurprised to feel the massive headache that often accompanied him on these visits. He tried not to think of the horrible memories threatening his sanity as he passed the hallowing hallways into his mother’s parlor, which seemed to be the only room in the house that the Dark Lord didn’t corrupt. That didn’t surprise him; his mother greatly prided herself in keeping this room to herself, as if it was her little secret getaway from the dreadful events this house had endured.

“Draco dear, shut the door, would you?” His mother had failed to look up from whatever it was she was reading.

Draco complied, shutting the door, and taking the seat opposite of her. The furnace burnt hot and the flickering flame illuminated his mother’s silhouette. He looked to his right to see his tea was already poured for him on the side table.

“What’s that you’ve got?” He wasn’t necessarily curious but needed to say something just so that they wouldn’t sit there in silence, as they’ve done before.

“This,” Narcissa sighed, “is a letter from your father.”

Draco stiffened, “What does he want?”

Her eyes shifted over to him, narrowing a bit, “He’s in Brussels. He sends his regards.”

Draco hummed, staring off in the distance at some ornate painting of the Malfoy family, back when they were happy. Lucius looked as stern as ever, but young Draco was smiling a bit as he looked up to his mother, and for a moment they shared a glance with a glint of something in their eyes that Draco couldn’t quite place.

“Brussels, is it? I thought he was in Switzerland.”

Narcissa shook her head, still reading the letter intently, “As did I. It seems his business is taking him elsewhere.”

Draco fought hard not to scoff in front of his mother. His ‘business’ meant trying to rebuild the Malfoy name from the 6 foot grave it was dug under during the war, while staying as far away from Wizarding London as best as he could, lest the Aurors get a hint of whatever malicious plan he has yet to accomplish. From what it sounded like, he was trying to increase their influence elsewhere, if worse came to worst and staying at the Manor was no longer an option. Had Draco been the same person he was three years ago, this would have mattered a great deal to him, and he would likely have joined his father in his endeavors. The thought was now laughable to Draco in numerous ways.

“I saw Pansy today. Pansy Parkinson. Do you remember her?” Draco blurted out without really meaning to.

“Parkinson,“ Narcissa looked deep in thought, “A pure blood family. Is she spoken for?”

Draco wanted to gouge his eyes out. Of course that’s what she was concerned about.

“No, and I have no intention of being anything other than her friend.” His tone was biting, and for good reason.

Narcissa finally put down the letter to look at him, hard and unwavering. This look would have intimidated a younger Draco, but he was a man now. He was tired of living up to impossible expectations.

“Draco…” She sighed, sounding exasperated of having to continue this conversation again.

He knew what she was going to say. ‘Draco dear, you have a duty to your family and our name. You can have as many hush-hush side romances as you want, but you need to carry on the Malfoy line blah blah blah’. He’s had this conversation more than once and was _not_ willing to have it again.

“Do we _really_ have to have this conversation again, mother?” He looked at her pointedly.

Her eyes narrowed but she relented. Relaxing back in her chair, she sat there, saying nothing. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but one that Draco found he actually didn’t mind. He preferred sitting there in silence than being chastised over things he could not control.

When he came out to his mother, he was surprised to find that she didn’t care much, but his _father_ on the other hand, well…that was a different story. His father wasn’t around the Manor long enough to actually be there in person when Draco told him, so he had to settle for a letter.  He wasn’t sure what to expect, but what he definitely wasn’t expecting was to be ignored completely. His mother prevented him from being disowned, as long as he married a pure blood witch, then he could have as many liaisons as he wished. That _was_ the Malfoy way. Even still, his father barely talked to him as it was, so nothing really changed much. Perhaps it was for the best, Draco thought, that their relationship could never go back to the way it was.

As they sat in silence, it bitterly reminded Draco how once, long ago, he would have done anything for his parents’ approval. And then Lucius allowed the Dark Lord into their home, and all of a sudden, Draco didn’t see much of a reason to want to be like him anymore.

After a long while of sipping tea in silence, Draco stood, dusting himself off, “Thank you for the tea, mother. It’s been delightful as always.”

Although his tone lacked sincerity behind it, Narcissa still stopped him from leaving when she called his name out.

He turned, to find her with a genuine look of affection on her face, making the guilt seep deeply into his stomach, “My dear, please do take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

With that, he walked out of the door, not waiting for the house-elf to escort him there, until the Manor was far out of view.


	2. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thanks again for checking out my story :) I will be trying to post new chapters as frequently as I can. Please let me know in the comments what you think of the story so far!

A week had passed before Pansy had written to Draco, inviting him over. From his embarrassing, self-pitying display last week, he was surprised that she had written at all. Although he probably should not have been. She couldn’t have had many friends around besides himself, after being away for so long.

After having showered, he Floo’d right over to her flat to find that she was dreadfully underprepared for his visit.

There she stood, in a bra and a skirt, looking mortified that Draco had suddenly appeared in her bedroom.

“Malfoy, you idiot, I was changing!” She looked terribly offended but made no move to cover herself up.

Draco laughed, until he felt a shirt being thrown at him from across the room.

“Honestly, if you weren’t so unbelievably homosexual, I would have killed you on the spot.” Her tone caused Draco to laugh even harder until Pansy finally found a tight fitting top that was low enough to imply ‘street-walker’ and led him out of the room.

“You really should fix that if you don’t want guests accidentally witnessing something that may scar them,” He looked around her flat for a chair to sit in and was genuinely surprised. It was bigger than his, that was for sure, although it was fairly obvious that she had just moved in as unpacked boxes still littered the living room.

Pansy sighed, “Believe me, I’m trying. It seems, however, the head of the Floo Network Authority has a personal vendetta against me.”

Draco looked at her with disbelief, “You sure about that?”

"I don’t know, Draco,” She rolled her eyes at him, “Maybe it has something to do with my parents being locked away in Azkaban, or it could just be my imagination.”

That shut him up quickly. An apologetic look fell over his face, but she didn’t seem to have any time for pity as she quickly waved him off and changed the subject.

“Do you want anything to drink? I have coffee, tea, or – _Merlin_ , are you really going out wearing that?”

He looked down at himself. He was wearing a white silk shirt, one of the nicest ones he owned, and black trousers, with a plain, but expensive, black robe over it. A reminder of the days in which he had wanted for nothing in the Manor. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Pansy gave him an incredulous look, “Draco, we’re going to a Muggle bar, you can’t wear your robes out like that!”

He looked down, now feeling a bit sheepish, “Well you didn’t exactly tell me where we were going.”

She rolled her eyes at him again, but this time, with a playful smile at her lips, “Where’s your sense of adventure, Malfoy?”

The usage of his last name and the nature of her teasing sounded too familiar and yet too foreign to hear on her lips and it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat until they heard the Floo again in the other room.

“Pans,” Draco started, with a confused expression on his face, “Who else did you invite?”

She didn’t answer, instead giving him a devilish grin.

"Pansy Parkinson,” A familiar voice from the other room called out, causing Pansy to cackle quite manically, “would you mind explaining to me why I’m in your bedroom?”

“The night is young, Zabini, it might not be the last time you’re in there,” Pansy shouted before flinging the door open and throwing herself into the much taller man’s arms.

Draco and Blaise hadn’t always gotten along when they were in school, especially in sixth year, but they always had respect for one another. Pansy, who was very close with both, was usually the one who brought them together during outings. After the war, neither men had felt the need to continue whatever grudge they had back in school. Since then, they were on better terms, but still hadn't kept in contact all that much. Draco, however, noticed that the man had changed quite a bit since the last time he saw him. He was taller, more muscular – in Draco’s opinion, he was pretty fit.

“I have to say Pans, you’ve changed quite a bit,” Blaise looked the woman up and down, with a smirk on his face, “In fact, you look like even more of a slag than before.”

Had their friendship not been so close, she would have slapped him across the face. Instead, the pair roared with laughter, while Pansy gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. Draco found it hard to keep a straight face as well, allowing for a snicker to escape.

“Draco,” Blaise eventually turned to share a quick embrace with him, “you look good. It’s been awhile.”

Draco agreed, “Indeed, it has.”

“I thought you couldn’t make it. Had a sudden change of heart?” Pansy asked.

Blaise shrugged, “More like a change in my work schedule.”

Pansy smirked at him, “And how is your Auror training going?”

Blaise’s eye lit up at the question, “It’s going wonderfully. Just the other day, I was assisting the Head Auror on this case…”

Draco found himself zoning out of their conversation. Blaise was many things – arrogant at times, a bit selfish, and often quite pompous, but he was never a Death Eater, nor was anyone in his family, which is likely the reason he had decided to undergo Auror training after the war had ended. Despite him being enthusiastic, and pretty damn good at his job, the fact that he was a Slytherin and hadn’t fought on either side during the war meant his training was prolonged, unlike certain Gryffindors who were practically handed job offers.

From their previous conversations, his job seemed much more interesting than what Draco did, which was fixing, repairing, and analyzing Dark artifacts. Most of his days resulted in desk work, taking notes, writing reports and assisting the Ministry when they called upon him – only on occasion was he able to actually _work_ on said objects. Working independently meant he hadn’t much of an office, resulting in him often working at home, but it suited him far better than staying at the Manor and feeding off of his family’s dwindling wealth.

Despite being acquitted, most of his parents’ assets were frozen after the trial, and Draco realized, much sooner than his parents did, that they couldn’t live the Malfoy lifestyle any longer. Besides, fixing the Vanishing Cabinet during sixth year was one of the few things he quite enjoyed, despite the reasoning behind it. The impenetrable focus his job required allowed his mind to relax and his thoughts to disperse. It was one of the few times during the day in which he felt at peace.

“Draco? Are you listening?” Pansy held her purse over her shoulder, while her heels clicked against the floor.

Blaise too, was now leaning against the front door, waiting for Draco, it seemed.

“Oh relax, I’m coming,” Draco rolled his eyes at the pair, remembering to leave his now discarded robe folded on the chair.

             

           

The pub they had entered was quite the establishment. By the time they arrived, it was packed full of people. The lighting was dim and dark, but the noise level was deafening, and Draco realized by the way Pansy was waving over to a few people sitting by the bar, that he recognized a few faces.

“Pansy! I’m so glad to see you,” Millicent practically ran over to the much shorter female, pulling her into a crushing hug.

“Millicent, you look great! You lost so much weight,” Pansy practically gushed over the woman in front of her, who really did in fact, look quite beautiful.

Behind the two were Theodore Nott, and much to Draco’s surprise, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein. A Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw? With four Slytherins?

Blaise was the first to greet the two outsiders while Pansy continued to chatter with Millicent about whatever it was that females chatted about. Draco, looking mildly uncomfortable, sat next to Theodore, who was at least a friendlier face to see.

“Draco,” Theodore leaned closer to chat, despite the roaring noise of the public, “How’ve you been, mate? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Story of his life, it seemed. From the sounds of it, he hardly saw anyone anymore – not that that notion was necessarily incorrect. Draco made polite conversation with his former classmate for a while before Pansy loudly announced she was buying everyone a round of drinks. Draco would have laughed at the display if he wasn’t already feeling so damn awkward at the fact that he barely knew or talked to some of these people.

At one point, Blaise patted Draco’s back, “Come on Malfoy, loosen up a bit. What happened to the Draco I knew in sixth year who would sneak firewhisky into the Slytherin dorms?”

Draco knew exactly what happened, as did they all, but he said nothing. Forcing himself to be more social, he smiled uneasily at the man before deciding one drink with some old friends couldn’t hurt.

 

 

Forty minutes and four shots of vodka later, Draco loosened up quite a bit. Pansy must have noticed Draco start to shut himself out, as she practically poured the shots down his throat. Even so, it was nice seeing her so happy and carefree. Nothing at all like the timid girl he remembered towards the end of their Hogwarts years.

Draco had found, surprisingly, that Anthony and Justin were actually decent company. Justin, being Muggle born and all, worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Blaise had befriended him, on accident really, during the first few months of his Auror training, where he was assigned a case in which he had to inquire about a Muggle weapon. Anthony also worked in the Ministry, doing some administrative work, where he befriended many people, including Blaise and Justin.

“-and I tell you, I’d never seen Blaise run so fast in my life.” Justin could barely get the sentence out without howling with laughter.

Blaise, who was now sporting a dark red flush on his face, either from the alcohol or the embarrassing story, couldn’t keep a grin off his face, while the others laughed heartily at the tale.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Pansy squawked, donning the same pink flush Blaise was, “in fifth year, we played truth or dare in the Slytherin dorms, and I dared Blaise to kiss Millicent. I thought maybe he might have Apparated from how quickly he disappeared!”

The group roared with laughter – even Draco couldn’t help the thundering laughter that crawled out of him. Millicent, despite looking mildly offended, giggled at the memory.

Blaise chuckled, “I’d be careful if I was you, Parkinson. I’ve got a few stories myself to share.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “This is Pansy we’re talking about, the woman has no shame.”

She stuck her tongue out at the blonde-haired man, scooching her chair closer to Theodore’s to the point where she was basically sitting on his lap.

“Theodore darling, be a dear and buy me a drink,” she said before planting a big wet kiss on his cheek.

Theodore, who seemed to have gained a bit of courage from the alcohol grabbed her by her waist to put her fully into his lap, “Well that depends, Pans. What’s in it for me?”

Pansy’s eyes nearly jumped out of her head while Blaise, Malfoy, and the rest of the group laughed at her facial expression.

Millicent reached around the table to playfully slap Theodore on the arm, “You two are just as naughty as you were in school.”

Pansy had always been a sarcastic flirt and a tease, and besides Blaise, Theodore seemed to be the only person who could put her in her place from time to time. While Pansy fought to get out of Theodore’s lap, Justin went to grab more drinks for everyone.

Anthony turned to Draco, with a playful grin on his lips, “You Slytherin lot are crazier than I thought.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Draco smiled slyly at the man, with a willful glint in his eye. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the fact that Anthony was sitting much closer to him than before, but he noticed the smell of sandalwood and pine and couldn’t help but realize how _long_ it’d been since he’s felt someone touch him. Not even sexually, but to feel the firm arms of another wrapped around you. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that.

As Justin came back with another drink – something that smelled strongly of gin, Draco realized that the laughter had died down and he couldn’t stop thinking about how undeniably _alone_ he was. It was the first time in a long time that he allowed these thoughts to creep in - when days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and he lived alone, unfeeling and uncaring about the world. Despite the fact that he was in a room filled with people, he felt the loneliness seep into him until he forced the drink in his hand to drown out the thoughts.

Anthony must have noticed his change of mood when he placed his arm around Draco’s shoulder. This wouldn’t have been unusual if it was one of his Slytherin friends, but this was the first time he had actually talked to this man. The touch made him shiver, but he hid it well, or as well as his drunken self could. Perhaps, Draco thought, he wasn’t the only one feeling a bit drunk, “You alright, Malfoy?”

Draco nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, noticing that his eyes looked a bit green in this light, or perhaps he was just imagining it, “’m a bit drunk, is all.”

Anthony laughed, “Aren’t we all, mate?”

Draco looked around at his friends and felt his lips droop. Blaise and Justin were chatting about something work-related, while Millicent, Theodore and Pansy seemed to be laughing over some ludicrous story Pansy had told them.

Draco and Anthony had shared drinks and chatted a bit more before Draco started to _really_ feel how drunk he was. His head was spinning and the loud noise of the pub became even more deafening than it was before.

“You know, you’re not as much of a prick as you were in school,” Anthony had said, and Draco definitely saw green in his eyes now, although he was pretty sure when he walked in, they were blue.

Draco might have snickered, if he wasn’t taking a long, hard sip of his gin and tonic. Wiping his mouth with the napkin in front of him, he smirked, “’Lots changed since then.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Anthony clinked their glasses together at that, bringing Blaise and Justin’s attention back to them.

“What are you two prattling on about? Something interesting, I hope,” Blaise raised an eyebrow at them, while aiming a mischievous smirk at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes, about to think of a clever retort when Blaise interrupted him.

“Maybe another drink will make you talk,” Draco wanted to refuse, and really, he should have. Instead, he nodded, since words came a bit harder for him at that moment.

Anthony, who Draco had noticed hadn’t removed his arm from his shoulder, moved a bit closer, as if he was trying to hold himself up, despite sitting on a stool. Anthony really _was_ drunk then, Draco decided. _And since when did Goldstein become Anthony? If only childhood me could see this display_ , Draco thought, disdainfully.

His eyes followed Blaise as he moved past a group of people congregating near the bar, in order to get the bartender’s attention, although Blaise must have recognized someone because, in that moment, he was chatting away with the patrons at the bar. Normally, Draco would have thought that Blaise was making casual conversation with the random strangers, but the way Blaise had reacted, almost enthusiastically, to seeing them meant he must have recognized them.

Behind where Draco was sitting, he could hear the soft laughter of Pansy and Millicent, but he couldn’t pay much attention because Draco couldn’t get a good look, but he could’ve _sworn_ Blaise was talking to…

His eyes widened, and his heart stopped. If he wasn’t so pissed drunk, he would’ve run out the second he could, but the poor, drunken man was paralyzed by what he’d seen. For that was the exact moment when it happened. That was the first time he had seen Harry Potter in years, and he was staring right into Draco’s eyes from the other side of the bar.


	3. Beautiful Disaster

Draco leaned over the bathroom sink, breathing heavily as he stared at himself in the mirror. The familiarity of it all made the bile in the back of his throat rise, but what was left of the rational part of his mind refused to let Draco make a fool of himself now – especially not when Harry _fucking_ Potter was just outside the door.

At first, he hadn’t realized that Harry was staring at him. Blaise was in the middle of greeting Weasley, when he noticed the familiar dark mess of hair that was on Harry’s head, and those unrelenting green eyes. It seemed Harry was just as surprised to see him as well, as they both just stared at each other for a moment before the weight of Anthony’s arm on his shoulder began to droop, bringing his attention back to reality.

After recognizing that the people Blaise was talking to was none other than Harry’s Gryffindor crew, including the red-haired Weasley girl who he was most likely married or engaged to by now, Longbottom, and a couple of others Draco was too pissed to recognize, he quickly excused himself to the bathroom. Luckily, everyone around him was too far gone to notice, but he still tried to be as discreet as possible, which is how he ended up having a mini meltdown in the bathroom.

The fact of the matter was that he had sworn to himself, many years ago, that had he ever come across Harry again, he would look the other way. It had been too long, too _hard_ for him to come up with the right words to say. He didn’t even know where to start. But he knew he owed him his life, and nothing would ever erase the man from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Years, months, weeks passed by and it all went to hell the moment Harry Potter stepped into this pub.

What was left of Draco’s sober mind forced him to look at himself in the mirror. He was not the same idiotic teenager that he was when he knew Harry. He was a grown man, and one who worked hard for the life he had. He wasn’t a slave to his father’s name anymore, and he shouldn’t feel ashamed when he _knew_ he was a better person than he was back then. He looked down at the rolled-up sleeves of his cream-colored shirt to find the Dark Mark visible for the world to see. Most days he didn’t notice it, but at that moment, it was all he could see. Letting his head hang, he took a deep breath and prepared for whatever would accompany him the moment he walked out of that bathroom.

As he struggled to walk in a straight line out of the bathroom, he was surprised to find that Potter and his entourage had disappeared from where they originally were and instead merged with his group. Draco’s stomach churned, and he decided it was half from the alcohol sloshing around in his stomach, and half from the anxiety of having to face all those people.

“Draco, over here!” Pansy caught his attention, with a devilish grin on her face, “Look who came to join us.”

_Pansy, you evil bitch._

The closer Draco got to the table, he was able to recognize some more of the faces around him. Lovegood was there and was in deep conversation with Justin, which was no surprise there, since they were both Ravenclaws. Theodore and Millicent mostly kept to themselves, while Blaise talked to Granger and Weasley. Longbottom and the other Weasley girl laughed at a joke Anthony had told. And Harry…well, Harry was talking to Pansy, and they both seemed to sense Draco openly staring as they both turned their heads, as if on que, to look at the bewildered man. Had Draco been sober, he would’ve died of embarrassment. But after the pep talk he had given himself in the restroom and the liquid courage in his system, he sauntered over to them as if he wasn’t currently shitting himself.

"Malfoy,“ Harry started, much to Draco’s annoyance. _Really?_ Still Malfoy after all these years? “Been a while.”

Draco sat down on the stool next to Pansy, leaving her in the middle of the two, “Potter. Funny seeing you here.”

Pansy said nothing, opting for observing their interaction as if one of them would break at any moment. And if they were, Draco would be damned if he broke first.

Despite the fact that the world around him was spinning, Draco couldn’t help but focus deeply on the man’s appearance. It _had_ been years, after all. He looked more mature, and from what he’d heard, his Auror job had been doing well to keep him in shape. His hair was just as messy as it’d always been, and a bit longer too. That much hadn’t changed. His clothes looked expensive, which was odd to Draco – he doubted Harry even bought them himself, anyways. Still, he couldn’t deny that they flattered him greatly. All in all, he looked…like Harry. The thought caused a lump to form in the back of his throat.

“Pansy was just telling me about your job. You work for the Ministry? I’m surprised we hadn’t run into each other sooner.” Draco was too drunk to tell, but it almost looked like he shifted his chair closer, while Pansy turned around to chat with Millicent.

“I don’t,” His tone came out harsher than he intended, but it was a miracle in itself that he was able to form a sentence to begin with, “work for the Ministry. I work independently. The Ministry has contracted me for my work once or twice.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t say much. Instead, he took a large swig of whatever dark drink was in his hand, and Draco was slightly impressed by the giant gulp he took.

“I didn’t think the Hero of the Wizarding world would get out much. Especially at Muggle pubs.” Draco smirked at the man.

Potter made a sound that was either a scoff or a laugh, “One would think.”

He pointed to the red headed girl behind him, who was now conversing with her brother, “Ginny likes Muggle pubs. She forces us to go to a new one every week.”

Draco tried to suppress the bitterness in his tone, but found it a bit impossible as he raised an eyebrow, “Doesn’t being an Auror make it difficult to be inebriated every week?”

Harry opened his mouth, but Ron, utterly sloshed, interrupted and spat at Draco, “What would you know about being an Auror, ferret?”

Blaise had laughed as if it was the funniest insult he had ever heard. Had Draco been sober, he would have come up with a humiliating comeback to wipe that smug look off the Weasel’s face. Unfortunately, Ronald was not the only one who was incredibly plastered, as most people around him started laughing at the incredibly stupid insult. He found that he couldn’t contain his laughter either and bellowed alongside with Blaise, mostly for the fact that Zabini looked like he was about to rupture an artery from how hard he was laughing.

Soon enough, everyone had started to join in, even Harry himself couldn’t help the growing grin on his face. This was around the point Draco had realized, much later on, that his memory started to lapse and he started to lose all notion of sobriety.

He couldn’t remember who it was that ordered more drinks for the table, but soon their intertwined groups had begun to dominate that area of the pub, as they had to put two tables together to fit everyone. Draco, feeling more drunk than usual, was quite talkative, and tried to make conversation with every person there. He also tried his best to avoid Harry in conversation, but it was hard to do when the man actively _tried_ to talk to him as often as he could.

It had also occurred to him at that moment why Blaise was so chummy with that group. It made sense, after all, since Potter, Weasley and Zabini were all Aurors. Even so, to see Blaise talk to them as if they were old friends was beyond strange.

Draco had decent conversations with the group, especially Lovegood and Justin, who had enwrapped him into a conversation about current events in the Wizarding world, something Draco appreciated, after having lived in a Muggle neighborhood for so long. He found that he was even able to have a conversation with the Weasleys, including Granger, without a single insult being thrown. It was mostly mundane conversation, a bit awkward at best, but it was better than sitting there scowling, as Draco would have done without all the alcohol in his system. Trying to be amicable towards Granger was a bit more difficult, considering she stared at him as if he was about to hop on the table and start hexing everyone. Instead, Draco decided to fight that battle another day and avoided her presence as best as he could.

Not long after their groups integrated with one another, Pansy and Theodore made their way to the dance floor, despite the fact that there probably wasn’t a dance floor to begin with. From seeing how Pansy wrapped her entire body around the man, it was clear she likely wasn’t going home alone. After that, Justin led Lovegood and many others as they danced to a Muggle pop song that Draco had heard of once or twice from the shops nearby. Eventually, all that was left behind was Ginny, Harry, Anthony and Draco. Even Longbottom was too hammered to say no to dancing, and from the way he moved his body, Draco could tell he was just as drunk as he looked. Anthony, who Draco had barely talked to since Harry came by, put his arm around Draco’s shoulders once more.

“This bloke,” Anthony slurred, “has some of the funniest stories to tell about Blaise.”

Draco snorted, slurring just as well “Have you met the man? He’s – _hiccup –_ a walking embarrassment.”

Harry rolled his eyes and Ginny scooted closer to him. Draco tried to ignore the tightening in his stomach at the sight of it.

“In all our years at Hogwarts, I’ve never seen you this plastered, Malfoy,” Harry smiled at him in a way that was either genuine, or genuinely making fun of him, he couldn’t decide.

Ginny nodded, “I agree. You always seemed too uptight for all that,”

“You should’ve seen what I was like in sixth year,” Draco realized he was falling out of his chair, and leaned on Anthony for support, “especially in the Slytherin dormitories.”

Draco waggled his eyebrows at Potter, not particularly meaning it in a suggestive way, but more to get a reaction out of the man.

Harry choked on his drink and Draco scoffed, “Oh don’t be such a prude, Potter.”

Ginny, much to Draco’s surprise, also had chuckled at Harry’s bewildered expression before she leaned into Harry’s ear to say something over the loud noise, then excused herself to the lady’s room.

Draco watched her walk away until his attention had shifted when Anthony’s hands started to roam from his shoulders to his lower back. Normally, he wouldn’t have complained, and possibly even taken it a step further, but since they were in front of Potter, Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit odd about it.

“So,” Harry asked, eyes fixated on something in the distance, “how long has this been going on?”

Draco looked at the man, confused, until he realized he was staring at Potter again. His green eyes, which were far brighter than Draco remembered, bored into his, forcing him to answer a question he never even asked, and one that Draco fought hard to suppress.

“A while,” Draco confessed, unwittingly.

He still had no idea what Harry was asking, but it didn’t stop him from staring at the man, with a surprisingly open expression.

Harry broke eye contact and hummed, as he looked over at the others who had now taken over the dance floor. Anthony too, called over by Justin and Blaise, had gone to dance, leaving Harry and Draco alone at the table.

Draco laughed at his friends, seeing Pansy grind up on Blaise and Theodore all at once. Justin and Millicent seemed to be having a good time as well, as did the rest of the group. Even Ron’s goofy face as he danced with Granger almost made Draco want to smile. They all seemed so happy now. Not at all like the hollowed out, empty faces he had seen years ago.

“Look at them,” Draco shook his head, chuckling at the display, “They’re like a wild pack of animals.”

Harry laughed at that, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, as they stared at their crazy friends with small smiles on their faces. It was Harry who directed Draco’s attention back to him when he spoke next.

“You’ve changed quite a bit, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice caused him to turn his head back around.

“You haven’t.” Draco stared at him, speaking softly.

Harry blinked at him, not really knowing what to say, and instead opted for another sip of his drink. Before long, Draco had joined the others, and eventually, so did Harry. For a short, ridiculous, drunken moment, they were all able to put aside their differences and just be human beings for once, and it felt _good_.

It felt good to be reckless. It felt good to enjoy time with his friends, who Draco could barely call friends, since he barely allowed himself to have relationships with anyone anymore. For a brief moment, he was able to forget his loneliness, no matter how hard it threatened to eat him alive every time he looked over at Potter, who seemed to be surrounded by love and companionship at every moment of the day.

He danced with Anthony briefly and Pansy who just groped and rubbed and pushed herself against him. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Harry, Granger and Weasley had all taken their seats and seemed to be in deep conversation about something. It was obvious Harry wasn’t the dancing type, or simply wasn’t drunk enough for it. The trio turned to look at him every now and then, but Draco’s attention was elsewhere when he felt Pansy’s hands on his shoulders, as she turned the drunken man around to face her.

“Shall we give these Gryffindors a show, Malfoy?” She had said loud enough to get the trio’s attention, and to earn a hoot and holler from Millicent, Theodore, and Blaise. The others seemed too shocked to fully understand what was going on.

Draco, looking like a manic hyena, grinned and said, “It would be my honor, Parkinson.”

And with that, Pansy grabbed a handful of Draco’s platinum hair and forcefully pulled his head to hers and they met in a wet, obnoxious, and obscene kiss. She was stronger than she looked, as she led him through the motions of it. Had he not been completely, utterly, and hopelessly gay, he daresay he would have enjoyed it. Instead, when they finally pulled away for a breath, Draco had to fight not to gag, causing all the Slytherins to laugh, while everyone else stared at them in disbelief.

“Pans, if you were a bloke,” Draco slurred, not realizing how loud he was being, “I would let you take me home and fuck me.”

Pansy cackled, “At this point, you’d let anyone fuck you.”

He turned to the others to find that most of them were slack jawed. Except for Potter, who stared at him was such intensity, he thought he might pass out. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Draco really couldn’t tell.

Draco sneered, calling out rather loudly, “What is it, Potter? You got a problem with faggots?”

Ron looked like he might fall over from the way he was trying to hold back laughter, while Granger looked like she desperately wanted to get Weasley home.

“I – uh, well no-,” Harry stammered, his face burning bright red.

“Well good,” Draco replied smugly, leaving Pansy on the dance floor with Anthony, as he sauntered over to the table.

“I need another drink,” Malfoy muttered, before screaming loud enough to cause Harry and the others to flinch, “WAITRESS! A COCKTAIL PLEASE.”

Granger turned to Potter, “Harry, I need to get Ron home. Are you okay getting home on your own?”

Harry, ignoring her for a moment said, “Malfoy, I really don’t think you should-“

“Who do you think you are, Potter,” Draco pointed a finger at him that was a little bit too close to his face, “telling me what to do? I’m a grown man.”

Harry smirked at him, “You look more like a grown tosser to me.”

Draco laughed, “Always with the comebacks, this one. Give it a rest, Potter. You’ll never be as quick to the punch as I am.”

Instead of replying, Harry had turned to say goodbye to his friends. It was then that Draco had looked around the now-emptying pub that he realized most of his friends were getting ready to leave as well. Had they really been there for that long?

“Pans – Pansy? Where’s Pansy?” Draco looked around, suddenly concerned.

“Theodore took her home.” Anthony said from behind him, allowing his beating heart to ease itself for a moment.

Harry turned to the man, “Umm, Malfoy. Are you going to be able to get home alright?”

Draco couldn’t really answer that, mostly because he felt the vomit start to rise in his throat. He _definitely_ wouldn’t be able to Apparate safely, nor use the Floo. It seemed his only option was to take the Tube.

Anthony spoke up, slightly slurring but not nearly as bad as Draco was, “I could take him home.”

Blaise scoffed, “Oh I’m sure you’d love to Anthony, but Justin already offered to take you home.”

Neither Draco nor Harry said anything. Draco was focusing too hard on trying not to throw up, while Harry just stood there, looking concerned. Longbottom gave Harry a firm pat on the back, while Ginny gave him a peck on the cheek as the pair headed out together. At the time, Draco was too drunk to notice. Even Lovegood had left, and the only ones left on the street were Harry, Draco, Blaise, Justin and Anthony. Eventually Justin and Anthony had left, while Draco sat on a bench, focusing hard on trying not to see double.

Blaise and Harry talked quietly enough so that he couldn’t hear what they were saying, until eventually Draco’s vision started to spot and the next thing he knew, he was leaning against a warm and firm body until that body disappeared and he recalled the familiar feeling of his silk sheets rubbing against his face. He buried himself into his pillows and within moments he had given into unconsciousness. He could’ve sworn though, as he faded into a deep sleep, he heard a voice speak softly into the abyss.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've ever written because of how utterly humiliating and hilarious it is. There needs to be more drunk Draco making a fool of himself in fics, in my opinion lol 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment your thoughts/feelings/questions about this chapter, and I will do my best to answer them! Have a great weekend everyone!


	4. A Warning Sign

When Draco woke up the next morning, it wasn’t to the sound of chirping birds outside his window, or to Mittens purring at his bedside. When Draco had woken up the next morning, it was to the sound of the Floo in the living room.

Draco groaned at the loud roar, which only added to the pounding in his head. He shoved his head under the pillow and hoped that whoever his unexpected visitor was, they’d go away.

"Draco!” Pansy practically screamed from the other room, “Are you seriously still in bed? You lazy sack of-“

“Shut up, Pansy!” Draco yelled back, immediately wincing after as his head throbbed.

His bedroom door slammed open and he could hear Mittens’ bell jingling like mad as he ran as far away from the insane woman in Draco’s doorway. 

She snickered as he felt a small thump on the bed and turned minutely to see a small vial had been thrown on his pillow.

“Here, a present,” Draco wasn’t looking at Pansy, but he could practically see the smirk on her face, “for you. Looks like you desperately need it.”

Hangover potion, most likely. Draco didn’t hesitate to rip the cork out and swallow it in one go. Instant relief swept through his body, and he finally felt well enough to sit up on the bed to look at his intruder.

He definitely looked worse for wear, he didn’t need a mirror to tell him that. Pansy, on the other hand, looked rather put together. She wore a surprisingly simple Muggle outfit. Her hair was tied in a bun, and her face looked freshly cleaned. She must have had an early start to the day, he presumed.

“Thanks for that, Pans,” Draco rubbed his face, still feeling slightly groggy, “but why are you here?”

Pansy placed a hand on her hip and sighed in annoyance, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. _Merlin_ , you’ve grown into such a lightweight.”

Draco rolled his eyes and stared at her expectantly until she finally answered his question.

“You offered to buy me lunch last night, somewhere in the middle of you fawning over Anthony Goldstein and embarrassing yourself in front of Harry Potter.”

For a moment, he scoffed, somehow thinking that her words were false. And yet, an odd, reminiscent feeling gnawed at his brain, willing himself to remember all the horrible things he did.

His eyes widened and he gasped in horror, “Pansy, please tell me I didn’t-“

Pansy shook her head, giving him a mournful glance, “Sorry Draco, but you did.”

Draco could have died right there, utterly mortified by what he’d done. Part of him was still in disbelief that Potter was there at all, nonetheless somewhat _friendly_ to Draco and his friends. And what did Draco do, after eluding him for all those years? He went and made a complete knobhead of himself.

“Oh my god,” Draco fell back into his bed, hoping that the smooshed pillow over his face would end his suffering and suffocate him.

“Frankly, I found it pretty hilarious, especially that licentious kiss we’d shared.”

Draco groaned in agony, “Come on, Pans. Show me some mercy.”

Pansy snickered, “I have many wonderful qualities, Malfoy. Unfortunate for you, merciful is not one of them.”

Draco was destined to die alone, with nothing but the weight of his misery to keep him company – he was sure of it.

Pansy sighed exasperatedly, rolling his limp body around to face her, “Oh come on, Draco. Stop throwing a pity party for yourself and buy me food!”

Draco mumbled, still grasping onto his pillow as if it was a protective shield, “Just leave me here to die.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Oh believe me, I would, if I wasn’t bloody starving.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re evil, Parkinson. Fine, I’ll take you to get some damned food, just give me a bit to get ready.”

Pansy grinned like a child and escorted herself out of his bedroom. After Draco showered and got dressed, he waltzed out with her to the café he always frequented on the weekends. That is, when he wasn’t burying himself under the pile of work he _always_ had.

Pansy sat across from him, staring unrelentingly with a snarky smile on her face, “So, Mittens, huh?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, “What are you prattling on about?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Your cat! Mittens, is it? Why on earth would you name it that?”

"I wasn’t the one who named him,” Draco smiled slightly at the memory, “A floor down from my flat, there’s a Muggle family with a young daughter. When I found him, she called him that because of his white paws. The name sort of stuck. It’s the only name he responds to.”

Pansy looked like she could melt from how adorable his story was. The truth of the matter was, it wasn’t a sweet story at all. When Draco found that cat, it was in the back of an alley of a Muggle bar, where Draco sat, drunk out of his mind, and having one of the worst meltdowns since the war ended. He had just moved out of the manor. He had just told his family the truth, and his father, the man who he looked up to his whole life, refused to speak to him. He remembered flashes of the war – his hands shook, just as they had when pointing his wand at Dumbledore. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. Then, he heard a soft purr as Mittens approached him. He was a runt, small and feeble, and it was clear that he was just a kitten, but nonetheless, he fearlessly approached Draco and soon enough, was able to snap him out of his flashback.

It was a small thing, but it gave him hope – that one day, Draco would be okay. He wouldn’t need to reminisce about the past, nor would he need the aid of an alley cat to calm him down. Time would pass and he would heal.

He stared down at his feet and frowned, thinking that yes, time had passed, but had he truly healed?

"So how was it?” Pansy interrupted his thoughts.

“How was what?” Draco looked at her, confused.

She gave him a knowing look as she sipped her coffee, “You know. Seeing Potter again.”

“Oh,” Draco’s stomach dipped at the memory and the mention of his name, “Well, considering I was inebriated throughout the entirety of it, I can’t say it went as well as it could have.”

Pansy snorted, “No, but at least he looked entertained.”    

Draco couldn’t find it in him to laugh, or even smile at that remark.

“It could’ve gone far worse, Draco. Everyone gets drunk.” She looked at him with a softer look this time.

Her words helped a bit, remembering that Harry was possibly drunk too, and if Draco was lucky, he wouldn’t remember. Granted, luck was seldom on his side.

Draco changed the subject, “So, you went home with Theodore, huh?”

At that, Pansy blushed a bit, “Oh, it was no big deal. We’re adults, who says we can’t have some fun?”

“So did you? Have some fun?” Draco waggled his eyebrows at her, causing her to laugh and playfully slap him on the arm.

“Oh stop it. He was nothing but a gentleman the whole night.” The look on her face forced her to act casually, but Draco could see past it – the way her eyes lit up, and the way her cheeks bore the slightest pink tinge.

Draco smiled at her, “I’m happy for you, Pans.”

Pansy scoffed, “Oh please, it’s not like we’re getting married. We had sex, that was all. He left in the morning anyways, so I doubt it’ll happen again.”

Draco shrugged, “You never know.”

The rest of their afternoon together was quite pleasant, as they steered the topic away from the horrors of the night before. Eventually, Pansy had to leave, and Draco had to go as well. As they parted ways, a promise of later engagements passed their lips, and for once, Draco felt excited about the aspect of seeing his old friends again.

Walking back to his flat, he enjoyed the pleasant summer weather, and even smiled at his neighbors who passed him, walking their dogs, or going for a jog. He had been in such a good mood, he almost started humming. That is, of course, until he reached his door to find a letter stuck underneath.

Picking it up, and dusting it off, he saw golden letters written on the front. _12 Grimmauld Place_ , although the sender’s name was mysteriously not written on there.

Upon opening it, Draco thought he might actually pass out.

           

_Malfoy,_

_I hope you got home safely last night. I knew Blaise was too drunk to take you home, but he was insistent about it. To ease my own conscience, I thought I’d write this to you. You don’t have to reply, if you don’t want to. It was good seeing you again. You look well._

_H._ _Potter_

At first, Draco was in denial. He just stood there, paralyzed as if someone cast Stupefy on him. Unable to move, or speak, he then began to feel anger. Anger at himself, but also at Potter, for thinking it was okay to just drop in his life out of the blue after all these years, when his life was _finally_ starting to come together. _How did he even know where I live?_ The thought came to him angrily, although he wouldn’t be surprised if his idiotic, drunken self had told him. He wanted to tear the letter to shreds and throw it out the window, but the sound of Mittens purring against his leg calmed him down enough to set the letter down on the dining room table as he took a seat.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair. _Why do I keep doing this to myself?_ The words rung through him like an echo, repeated over and over again. It was a question that he dared not answer, because he already knew why – despite everything he’s done to change everything about himself and his lifestyle, he knew that he would spend eternity paying for his sins. He would always pay the price for the actions of a terrified teenager who didn’t know any better.

The thought sent echoes to his mind and throughout his body, causing shockwaves to sweep through his spine, as he began to shake uncontrollably. He breathed in and out, panting now, as his thoughts begun to race, and his mouth went dry. As he heaved, his shaky hands reached for his chest, and Draco _swore_ he was having a heart attack. _Of course_ , a thought went through his head, _after everything, this is what does me in._

He should have been used to it by now, really. Panic attacks were not new to him. There were many nights when he would wake up with the same sensations – barely coming to, with the growing numbness of his fingers giving him warning of what was to come. And yet, each and every time, it took him by surprise.

It wasn’t until Mittens leaped onto his lap, as Draco shut his eyes so painfully tight, he thought he might see stars. His clenched fists, tugging at his hair painfully, automatically reached for the kitten’s fur. His breathing came slower now as he pet Mittens’ fur through shaky hands. This was often their routine. Mittens, while still a young cat, was wise and knew whenever Draco would get bad again. It was one of the main reasons Draco became so attached to the feline.

However, it wasn’t enough for Draco to act with forethought. Grabbing his wand, which had now fallen beneath the dining room table upon opening the letter, he cast a quick _Incendio_ towards the fireplace, and tossed the letter to the flames. He watched through blurry vision as it burned away the golden letters that read _H. Potter._ He hoped, foolishly, that it would be enough to burn his fears, his desires, and all awful memories of the boy who lived. As he stared into the flames, he almost wanted to believe it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I felt comfortable enough to share my stories with the world, and your words of encouragement have urged me to keep going. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, and I promise I'll see this one through.


	5. Just My Soul Responding

“Mr. Malfoy,” A voice rang from across the hall, causing the blonde wizard to look up from the copy of the Daily Prophet that laid upon the waiting room table, “Follow me, please.”

The issue had a portrait of Potter along with some other less-important Auror, as it read in big, bold letters, **_Harry Potter Closes In on Remaining Death Eaters!_** Just looking at it left a sour taste in Draco’s mouth, but he chose to ignore it as he discarded the newspaper and moved towards the voice.

The man had a surly expression as he eyed Draco up and down before leading him down the hallway. He looked unfamiliar to Draco, but from his attire, Draco could tell he was an Auror, or at least a lackey for the Aurors, since he didn’t hold that same holier-than-thou attitude that most had – though it wasn’t for a lack of effort. As the lackey, whom Draco secretly nicknamed in his head, led him through a series of doorways, he eventually led him to an office of some sorts – one he had not been in before.

“You may take a seat,” The lackey spoke in a particularly disdainful voice, offering no more than that as he took his leave.

 _Strange,_ Draco thought. Normally when he received his summons to the Ministry, they typically left a name. This time, the anonymous contractor offered little to no information about why he was there, other than to say that Draco’s work was needed. He was never one to turn down work – especially now that he needed the money to support himself, even if it meant working with Aurors. Still, the times he had worked with the Ministry, it wasn’t nearly as ceremonious as this. Whatever job they had for him this time, he thought, must be big.

Even so, being in their presence gave him a nervous feeling that even his pride couldn’t shake off. Perhaps it was the fact that his past wasn’t so completely erased that people around him would forget that the dark mark stood unabashedly against his skin. Or, even worse, perhaps it was knowing how close he was to the presence of Potter – that even being in the same building as him was enough to put Draco on edge. The only reassurance he had was the thought that Potter was a busy man; Draco doubted he would have the time to busy himself with mundane office work when he seemed to be out in the world, killing dark wizards, or throwing them in Azkaban. The thought was equally as disturbing to him as Potter actually _being_ there.

It had been a little over a week since he burned the letter, and since then, Draco had done well to isolate himself to the best of his abilities. All he had done since then was bury himself in paperwork and refuse Pansy’s request for another weekend of drinking. It was pure luck, or possibly misfortune, that he received these summons at such a pivotal point in his life, in which Potter was suddenly popping up _everywhere_. Mostly in his thoughts and in his dreams, which consequently tended to turn into nightmares, was he able to distract himself as best as he could by occupying his time with something meaningless. But nearly every damn day, Draco would read his name somewhere in a headline in the Daily Prophet, or from word of mouth as he passed by other wizards in the area. It was as exhausting as it was tormenting.

He barely went to Diagon Alley as it was, but there were days when he could not deny that he needed to shop for supplies. Even so, the days he did go, he stuck to the shadows, lurking away from anyone who had the possibility of recognizing him. The whole thing was a bit childish, he could admit. Regardless, he didn’t want to risk getting jumped by self-righteous Potter fanatics who probably never even _saw_ the war – not like Draco did.  

He sighed, sinking further into the leather chair. Thinking about all this was giving him a headache, and it made the realization that Draco was still waiting even more bothersome. Bouncing his leg up and down, whilst fidgeting in his chair, he became a bit restless waiting for his possible new employer to show up. When the door finally swung open, he jumped a bit.

“Sorry for the delay,” the man cleared his throat, eventually taking a seat. For a second, Draco didn’t recognize him, but eventually his eyes readjusted, and he realized the middle-aged man sitting in front of him was none other than Gawain Robards, the Head of the Auror department.

“As you can imagine, we’re a bit backed up here,” He stated, piling on a load of files and paperwork onto his desk.

Draco was still a bit shell-shocked and did not respond. Eventually though, the man stared up at him, studying him in a way that made him feel simultaneously guilty and sheepish, for Merlin knows what reason.  

“I…I’m sorry, but I think you must be mistaken,” Draco felt himself saying the words out loud, without thinking.

The man almost looked amused, “No? So you’re not Draco Malfoy?”

“I am,” Draco hesitated, “although, I don’t understand what the Head of the Auror department would want with me.”

"You’re a former Death Eater,” the man stated simply, allowing Draco to give into the dread that filled his stomach, “Oh, no need to give me that look. I wouldn’t send you a letter of employment if I wanted you arrested.”

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, hard.

Robards leaned back into his chair now, seemingly much more relaxed than that booming voice of his would lead you to believe. “The Ministry has contracted you for your work on more than one occasion, and I have to say I’m impressed. We could use your skills here, in our department.”

“So…what does that have to do with my past?” Draco felt his hands shake a bit from where he placed them in his lap. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, hoping to snap him out of whatever trance he was in at that moment.

Robards smiled then, in such a way that caused the hairs on Draco’s neck to stand on edge, “Everything, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I…I don’t have any information to give you. My family was pardoned, so I don’t-“ Draco stammered, although he tried desperately to keep his tone even, despite the fear that coiled deep in his spine.

The man’s boisterous laughter interrupted him. _This is a strange man indeed_ , Draco thought to himself.

 “I don’t need any information, Mr. Malfoy. None that you could give me that I don’t already know. I brought you here to hire you on for a case.”

Draco’s eyes widened, “A case? You mean-“

Robards nodded, decidedly amused at Draco’s bewildered expression, “Yes. I would need you to work alongside with my team on our current case. Normally, I wouldn’t require an outsider to work on such a highly-sensitive case, but due to the nature of the investigation, your assistance could be invaluable.”

Draco sat there speechless as the man continued.

"Now there is a bit of paperwork to be done, since you will be assisting my colleagues on the case, but since you’ve worked with the Ministry before, I’m sure it will be no problem for you. I’ll assign a small team to work under you, when the need arises in which your skills could be of use. Also, I’ll notify the other departments in case you need any aid from them as well. I may need you working out on the field alongside with the other Aurors, however, I don’t expect you to follow the same training protocols. While I can’t tell you the details of the case until after you’ve signed the contract, I must warn you that it may be dangerous. Do you have any questions?”

There were very few precious moments throughout his life when Draco found himself unable to say anything. He was always quick to the punch – good with his words. This time, however, Draco felt that if he were to say anything, he would surely fumble, so he opted to stay silent, waiting for the moment his mouth could open again.

The Auror smiled at him, in response, “I know it’s a lot to think about. Of course, the pay will be substantial. And as for your rather colorful past…”

Draco perked up then. He couldn’t really be suggesting-

“Erased from public record. You may even find permanent employment here, after the case is closed, if that is what you wish.”

“Permanent employment? As an Auror?” Draco asked, voice cracking in disbelief.

Robards nodded, “Yes, or at least within our department.”

“And what about my family? Will their name be cleared as well?” Draco demanded.

Robards hesitated, “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for your father, since his last excursion to Azkaban. However, I can petition to shorten your family’s probation, once the case is closed.”

Draco wanted to be selfish. He wanted to give into his pride. He had done it for so many years, it wouldn’t be difficult to do so now. How could he not? Draco? An _Auror?_ After so many years running from Aurors, Draco couldn’t possibly imagine himself being employed as one. And yet, the thought of clearing his name, and helping his family get their wealth back was too tempting to bear. Had he been the same person he was a few years ago, he would have jumped at the chance. He would have done anything for his family. Now? Even if he does love his family, is he willing to give up his freedom for them? After everything that had happened in the past several years, the answer was not so clear.

As Draco struggled with his thoughts, Robards placed a document and a quill on the desk, pointing to the dotted line where Draco’s name was supposed to be. His expectant glance only furthered Draco’s thoughts into a flurry.

Eventually, he was able to reply without a tremor, “I’m very grateful for this opportunity, Mr. Robards…but I think I may need some time to think about it.”

The Auror’s thin-lipped smile did not budge, “I understand. It’s a bigger project than you were expecting, I’m sure. How about you come in on Friday to tell me your decision. Is that enough time for you?”

Draco smiled back at him, albeit a bit timidly, “Yes, that’s fine with me. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Robards.”

The Auror stretched his hand out, as they exchanged a firm handshake, “You as well, Mr. Malfoy.”

As Draco stood up to leave, Robards halted as he said, “I have to say, you’re not at all what I expected.”

Draco shrugged, “I get that a lot.”

“I’m sure you do,” he replied.

Draco didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he opted for a brief, but friendly wave as he walked out the door. Before he exited the building however, he realized he desperately needed a moment to catch his breath. Finding a bench by the restrooms, he took a seat, placing the contract in his hand onto the seat next to him. Throughout the meeting, Draco’s nerves caused him to sweat profusely through his vest. He opted for black, as he normally did, and yet he could feel the sweat start to build up underneath his silky button-down and matching black vest. It almost made him want to take off his coat, but the Auror department was the last place he would ever dare to strip off his clothing.

Instead he casted a quick, wandless drying spell and stretched uncomfortably from where he was sitting. He just hoped in the few minutes he took to relax that nobody would recognize-

“Draco?”

 _Bollocks._ He turned his head to find Blaise, of all the people, approaching him as he exited the bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” _Better Blaise than anyone else,_ Draco shuddered at the thought.

Draco realized as he stood abruptly that his appearance looked quite disheveled, not to mention the fact he was mid-panic when Blaise discovered him. He must have been quite a sight to look at. “Official Ministry business. You know I work here, on occasion.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “Obviously, but why are you here in the Auror department?”

Draco opened his mouth to speak but hesitated for a moment when he saw Blaise’s expectant glance. _Should I tell him?_ The thought echoed through his mind. _I could always lie? No, he’ll figure it out eventually, especially if I decide to take the job._ After taking a pause, he finally replied, “Well…I think I just got a job offer.”

Blaise’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, “What? Working here?”

Draco nodded in reply. Blaise, taking a quick glance around, suddenly grabbed Draco’s arm and rushed him through the hallway into an empty conference room of some sorts– away from those who could potentially overhear their conversation.  Why it mattered, Draco had no idea, but he did not question it.

“So?” Blaise demanded, his face surprisingly hard, “Are you going to take it?”

“Truthfully? I don’t know,” Draco responded, eyes refusing to meet his.

The room was hauntingly quiet, though their voices sprang into the air, reverberating throughout the room discernibly. The noise did not do much to help with the thick tension that encompassed the room, and certainly didn’t help the thundering beat of Draco’s heart against his chest.

Blaise sneered, “There’s very few things you would sell your freedom for, even fewer people. What did they offer you? Something you can’t refuse, I imagine.”

 _Smart._ Draco nearly commended him for his logic. They were desperate, that much Draco knew from his chat with Robards. Although, it worried him to know just how desperate they really were.

“My family-“

“Ah,” Blaise responded, “now it all makes sense.”

A brief pause ensued, when Blaise suddenly rested a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Draco, there’s something you need to know,” Blaise’s tone was urgent, although his stare never wavered, “If they’re thinking of hiring you onto this case, then it’s worse than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Blaise sighed, “I don’t know. Everyone has been so on edge since word got out about Robards assigning a special team for some top-secret case.  The newcomers like me know nothing about it. You met with Robards, didn’t you? What did he tell you about it?”

Draco shook his head, “Nothing really, he just told me the bare minimum until I sign the contract. Although he did, essentially, give me free reign over the department if I decide to take the job.” 

“Look, all I’m saying,” Blaise hesitated, as his voice softened to a barely audible murmur, “is to be careful, Draco.”

The words rang through his ears, eerily reminding him of his conversation with his mother. They both bore the same surprisingly affectionate glance and frankly, it worried him. Whatever was to happen, Draco decided, would surely be the end of him.

Draco grimaced, putting some distance between the Auror and himself, “I don’t see what the fuss is about, it’s just a job.”

Only it wasn’t. Blaise didn’t look convinced, and despite himself, Draco wasn’t either.

“Is this really what you want, Draco? Just think on it.”

Draco couldn’t answer, and Blaise could sense it. He must have known he wouldn’t get an answer, at least not today, as he later sighed and motioned for the blonde wizard to follow him out into the hall.

Changing the subject, Blaise proposed, “Well since you’re here, we might as well get lunch. You hungry?”

Draco shrugged, though internally rejoicing for the change in topic, “I wouldn’t mind some takeaway. Are you okay with Chinese?”

Blaise looked baffled, “Draco Malfoy eating Muggle takeaway? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Draco grinned as Blaise led him through the main doors, “Neither did I, mate. Neither did I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it took me so long to upload this. I've had some serious health issues lately, but I'm in recovery and am feeling much better! Thank you to all who've stuck with me and this story this long. I appreciate it more than words can describe.


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